


moss & sun

by sternfleck



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Established Relationship, Fluff, Fluff without Plot, Forests, M/M, Married Life, Picnics, Walks In The Woods
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-04
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-03-14 15:14:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28547694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sternfleck/pseuds/sternfleck
Summary: “This path is familiar, their walking routine an established one. This is their land, most of it, though their home shares a property line with the state forest. They pass landmarks—the clearing full of wildflowers, the sharp boulder that resembles a crashed spaceship, the black pond with waters that seem deep as the earth itself, and finally, the immense, towering, hollow tree Ben often likes to pull Armitage into for a kiss or ten.”-Or: grown-up married BenArmie go for a walk in the forest.
Relationships: Armitage Hux/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 7
Kudos: 22





	moss & sun

**Author's Note:**

  * For [surrenderer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/surrenderer/gifts).
  * Inspired by [salt air](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25814932) by [surrenderer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/surrenderer/pseuds/surrenderer). 



> Just a tiny scrap of fluff for surrenderer, who goes back to work today after a long holiday.
> 
> I know many of you are in similar circumstances, so perhaps you will also enjoy a light read in which very fluffy grown-up salt-verse BenArmie enjoy a summer picnic in the forest.

It’s a rare warm day on the cold seashore where Armitage and Ben have chosen to summer. It’s not far from where they spent their honeymoon a few years ago—the same rocky shore and evergreen forests, and the same chilly fog that coats everything and makes it practical to spend most days indoors, drinking hot tea.

But today the fog has lifted, and Ben has insisted on taking a walk in the forest. Where his husband gets all his energy, Armitage will never know, but he’s content to stroll with Ben along the path, between stands of ferns and berry-bushes, turning his face up to catch the occasional ray of warmth that makes it through the dense canopy of boughs above.

This path is familiar, their walking routine an established one. This is their land, most of it, though their home shares a property line with the state forest. They pass landmarks—the clearing full of wildflowers, the sharp boulder that resembles a crashed spaceship, the black pond with waters that seem deep as the earth itself, and finally, the immense, towering, hollow tree Ben often likes to pull Armitage into for a kiss or ten.

Armitage halts expectantly—Ben has trained him to expect affection here in the pine-scented shadows of the forest’s largest tree—but Ben continues along the path, pulling Armitage along with him, hand in hand.

“Not here. I’m hungry. I want lunch. With your new tea thing.”

Armitage does indeed have a new vacuum canister full of hot tea. It’s slung over Ben’s shoulder on its thick strap—water is heavy, after all, but Ben is strong and willing. In addition to the tea itself, dark-brewed and milky, Ben carries a bag containing sandwiches—roast chicken on seeded bread—and a pastry for each of them. 

Ben leads him down the path to where the undergrowth thins and gives way to a wide patch of moss, where only a few seedlings poke through into the humid air. The warmth of the day is catching up to Armitage, so much so that hot tea seems like perhaps a poor decision, but the moss is cool under his hand when he takes a seat next to Ben on the broad trunk of a fallen tree.

“Your cheeks are pink,” says Ben, inspecting Armitage with affection in his gaze. “Too much hiking?”

“It’s my jumper,” Armitage replies. “I ought to take it off.”

If Ben were a good husband, he would hold the hem of Armitage’s shirt down to keep it from riding up as Armitage pulls the thin grey knit jumper over his head. But Ben is self-serving and undisciplined, as evidenced by the fact that he instead slides the warm flat of his palm across Armitage’s stomach where it’s bared to the forest air. When Armitage has shucked off the sweater and laid it beside him on the log—before he can even chide Ben for his mischief—Ben wastes no time in settling that same hand around Armitage’s waist, pulling him close into a deep, hungry kiss.

“Incorrigible,” Armitage breathes against Ben’s lips, when they break apart for air. But then he’s kissing Ben again, matching his husband’s hunger. Ben’s chest is warm under his hands, so strong that it still, even after their years together, makes Armitage’s head spin. 

Before Armitage can think to stop him, Ben’s hands are at his collar, fingertips warm against his throat as he unbuttons the neck of Armitage’s shirt. Armitage leans closer, breathing the foresty scent of Ben’s soap on his skin, and, for a moment, he feels he might lose himself entirely in Ben’s strength, his smell, and the way Ben looks at him—like a word from Armitage could make him tear down the world and rebuild it to Armitage’s liking.

Fortunately, Ben hesitates in his undressing. He’s just as caught up as Armitage, probably smelling the lemon oil Armitage used on his neck after his shave this morning. The pause gives Armitage time to take Ben’s hands in his own and say, “Not here. At home, in bed, after our picnic.”

Ben doesn’t even look crestfallen. He only leans forward to kiss Armitage’s hair, then his temple, his cheek, and finally his mouth again.

“In bed?” When Ben pulls back from the quick kiss, he has to question Armitage’s words. “What about on the soft rug? Up against the counter in the kitchen. No. On the sofa. You’re so pretty on the sofa when you wear your dark grey for me.” He pauses, deep eyes searching Armitage’s face, like he’s treasuring it. “It would be wrong to limit ourselves to bed.”

“Well, I’m not letting you fuck me in the middle of the forest,” Armitage teases, sliding a hand up Ben’s thigh to where his cock makes a heavy line in his trousers. He rubs along it with the back of his knuckles, thrilling at the way his touch makes Ben arch his back. “Mmm, you’re hard just from kissing me. Needy boy. All too easy to tease.”

Ben bites his lip to stifle his moan. There’s a sweet flush across his cheeks. Armitage never tires of making his husband blush over the littlest things. In Armitage’s work and in his life, he’s has plenty of power, but he’s never thrilled at it quite the way he does when Ben is his to command.

“Lunch first,” Armitage finishes with reluctance. He can hardly bear to stop tormenting Ben for a moment. Somehow, in their life together, they manage to eat, to sleep, to get things done. But when they’re on holiday together like this, all their other duties are chores in comparison to the joy of spending time together, teasing, praising, nuzzling soft hair and kissing soft skin.

Ben spreads out the contents of their lunch bag on the sun-drenched moss beside him, while Armitage pours cups of tea. For all Armitage’s passion for planning out his future, at this moment, there’s nowhere else he’d rather be. Except perhaps at home with Ben, in bed. Or on the sofa, in his best new dark grey lace.

When he takes his sandwich from Ben, he lets their fingers brush. Even at this small touch from Armitage, Ben smiles.

They’re together, with nothing else to do but lean on each other’s shoulders as they drink and eat. The day is still a warm one, quiet, and the sky through the trees is blue.

**Author's Note:**

> For more soft, you can follow me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/sternfleck) and [tumblr](https://sternfleck.tumblr.com/).


End file.
